Although I love winter life on St. Simons Island in Georgia, before the thermometer hits ninety degrees, I head for the mountains. Suffering heat and humidity is not what I wanted to do when I passed the age of … uh … fifty? It gets warm in Saluda too, but it cools off at night. Unlike in Georgia, I don’t feel like a limp dishrag at the end of the day.

Each year in July, humans and dogs celebrate the 47th annual Coon Dog Day Celebration in Saluda. This year, the community-supported event was possibly the closest thing to an old fashioned county fair I’ve seen in a coon’s age. Oops!

Contained within three blocks were food and souvenir stalls, and kiddie rides for the little ones who (unlike adults) don’t care about stuffing themselves with junk food. Over ten thousand people rubbed shoulders all day long in the intense July heat because, let’s face it, people are hungry for the good old days before electronics took possession of our minds and bodies.

The parade was way long and I thought it would never end. Open convertibles chauffeured the obligatory dignitaries as well as a Coon Dog Day Royalty. The Queen worked hard at perfecting the Miss America Wave. And what’s a parade without Shriners buzzing around on dune buggies and motorcycles, not to mention four Elvis impersonators singing You Ain’t Nothin’ But a Hound Dog?” Oh, and lots and lots of fire trucks.

Will somebody please tell me what ever happened to parade floats?

As if we didn’t already have a bellyful of politicians, there they were, marching to well-known Independence Day tunes. Surprisingly, the Democrats and Republicans were fairly equal in number and not one slimy plop of mud was slung.

Throughout the day, coon dogs dragged their masters down the street while sniffing and baying at nothing. After 47 years, coon dogs rule. Humans show up just to enjoy live music, clogging, square dances and all the junk food they can cram down their throats.

Ordinarily, sleepy little Saluda has no need of a wide thoroughfare to snake through it and no reason to entice looky-loos to the area. But every year on Coon Dog Day the narrow main drag next to the unused railroad track is jammed with people intent on buying everything from funnel cakes to funky jewelry.

Fast food joints are verboten inside the Saluda city limits, but not on this illustrious day. To report that Babe and I seriously pigged out would not be an exaggeration. We at barbeque from North and South Carolina, hot dogs, hamburgers, cake and ice cream. French Fries in cone-shaped cups, fried in lard and sprinkled with vinegar, were unavailable. Shoot!

Coon Dog Days began almost half a century ago as a fundraiser for the local Coon Dog Club, and over the years has evolved into something no one ever envisioned in 1963. Today, the festival is a major event for Polk County that brings in over 10,000 people to mill around the streets of Saluda. It begins on Monday and culminates on Saturday with a plethora of activities and concluding with a contest for the dogs themselves, the indubitable VIP’s.

As summer residents, we quickly adapted to this small community of people who immediately felt like neighbors we had known for a lifetime. We reconnected with some old friends who had moved here earlier and we met many others.

People like Judy Ward have become friends. Judy has moved heaven and earth to reopen Ward’s Grill, a favorite local restaurant. Why did she do it? Because, sadly, when the Grill closed down a few months ago, it was as though the heart of Saluda itself had died. Judy wanted to give back to the town that little piece of history that everybody loved. Because of her vision, the soul of the town is now back where it belongs, and her hamburgers are too!

People like Judy make Coon Dog Day an event that brings in folks from all over, folks who proudly sport Coon Dog Day t-shirts and ask the question: Can a coon dog really tree a coon?